


Miscellaneous

by Elie



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Titans (TV 2018), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Angst, Basically i whump dick, Character Death, Don't copy to another site, Drinking, Drowning, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Lazarus Pit, Most relationships are platonic/familial, Resurrection, Sickfic, Theres vomiting, canon complaint ish, lots of blood, people being angsty basically, sad stuff, talking about death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 22:07:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18882208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elie/pseuds/Elie
Summary: Filled prompts from my tumblr.1. “What is that?” - “Vodka. I thought that much was obvious.” Tim + Dick2. “You’re bleeding.” - “Well, would you look at that; I am.” Dick + Artemis3.  “Shh, c’mere…” Dick + Damian4. "It´s nothing." Dick + Batfam5. Four drabbles for an ask meme, "Zip me" (Dick & Bruce), "Unbind me" (Dick & Damian), "Call me" (Dick & Titans), "Haunt me" (Tim & Jason)6. "Stab Wound" Tim + Jason7. "A Green Bath" (or: Tim gets his brother back)





	1. “What is that?” - “Vodka. I thought that much was obvious.” + Dick & Tim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by nxxttime on tumblr

Dick is acting weird. More weird than usual. He’s laid like someone just straight up dropped him on the couch. A foot is hanging off the side, his head is leaning on the armrest, and he’s got one of his one arm laid up over the back. It’s a.. peculiar position, even for Dick. It doesn’t look like a comfortable one either.

“Timmy! My boy!” he says, when their eyes meet - again. They already said hi when Tim tumbled into the living room on his way to the kitchen for a midnight snack mere seconds ago, so the second greeting confuses him. He also had expected no one else to be awake, least of all Dick. The elder always seems eager to grab some shut-eye whenever he has the chance.

And yet instead of being asleep in his own bed, Dick is here, with him, in the living room at 4 am.

He sweeps his eyes over the room, looking for.. Well that can explain this. There is half a bottle of store-bought water sat on the corner of the table. Its placement, aligned with his brother's head on the couch, informs him of its owner. Other than that, there is nothing out of the ordinary. Besides how said brother is acting, that is.

Dick is currently holding his arm above his head, elbow locked in a straight position. He is staring at it with a far too serious and intense expression. His fingers are spread out as far as they go, and the hand is swaying slightly in the air.

“Seeing something interesting?” Tim asks, trying to be cautious.

Dick doesn’t seem to be listening to him, even if he hums as an answer.

Well, his little snack will have to be postponed.

Tim sits down in the chair beside the couch Dick is occupying.

“Did everything go alright on patrol?” Tim knew his brother and Bruce had been working together tonight, not really a rare occurrence but still - slightly out of the ordinary. It was a case that bled both into Blüdhaven and Gotham, and both of them had been too stubborn to give it up. Hence, the team-up. 

“Yea, kicked some sweet ass,” Dick replies, a grin has replaced the serious look from before. His brother has let his hand fall beside him and is turning on the couch to lie on his stomach. He rests his chin on the armrest and meets Tim’s gaze. There is something weird going on with Dick’s eyes. His pupils look blown wide, and the surrounding white has a hint of redness to it. Perhaps he’s drugged? But then Bruce wouldn’t have let him leave the cave, not without supervision at least.

Maybe Dick had tried to hide it? It would certainly not be the first time. But no, it’s not possible. There is no way Dick being drugged to the point of whatever this is, would have slipped past Bruce.

“Where’s B?” Tim feels newfound worry creep up his back. What if Bruce hadn’t been there for it to slip past him? What if something had happened, and Bruce had gotten hurt and Dick had been too out of it to help him?

“Down in the cave, workin’, didn’t finish up the case,” Dick answers. Tim can’t catch his eyes now, as they are darting all over the place. They also seem to be dropping, like Dick’s eyelids are becoming too heavy for him. 

“Did you get drugged or something? Poison Ivy?” Tim asks as Dick reaches out for the water bottle. He stops with his hand mid-air, looks at Tim, shakes his head and laughs before grabbing it. The laugh sounds sad and wrong. Dick brings the bottle to his mouth and opens the sports cap with his teeth, which, okay, and takes a small sip. This whole interaction is weird.

At least it’s not drugs, not anything Dick knows about at least. Dick is smart. He would’ve known if he’d been drugged, wouldn’t he? He always has before. Dick’s always been good at knowing his own body and when there is something wrong with it. Perhaps from too much past experience. 

At least he’s drinking water. 

Maybe Dick is just sleep deprived. Tim knows from experience, both with himself and his brothers, that it can get you quite loopy. It is 4 am after all, even if it’s not the weirdest time of the day to meet someone awake in this particular house. Maybe he should go and get Bruce, or call Jason and ask if he’s ever encountered Dick like this before. 

As his eyes fall upon the still not settled water in Dick’s hand, he feels how dry his throat is. One of the reasons he hadn’t joined Bruce and Dick tonight had been that he was coming down with a cold. He also has some actually important projects for school next week. They’re only important because of the many earlier projects he has blown off in favor of Bat-business. Now the year is coming to an end, and it doesn’t matter how smart he is if he’s got nothing to prove it on paper. He would rather not spend his next few days finishing them while sick, only to get less than a satisfactory grade. Bruce had not been impressed by Tims prioritizing either, so yeah - Tim was off for the night anyway. And the next one. Probably the next one after that too. 

Dick had at least stopped by his room and thrown some cough medicine at him earlier before leaving with Bruce, while also promising Tim that “yes, we will be fine, you worrywart. Get some rest, you don’t look too good.” 

Now he was doubting if they really had been fine. 

“Do you mind if I get some of that?” he asks, once Dick hangs the hand, still holding the bottle,over the armrest. A few drops of water hit the floor. Dick looks at Tim with a confused expression until Tim points at the bottle.

A grin spreads over his brothers face,“why, yes of course!” he says as he somewhat stretches his hand with the bottle out. Tim has to lean over half his upper body out of the chair to grab it.

He lifts the bottle while bending his head back. He presses the bottle to squirt some of the water into his mouth, the less contact he has with what Dick’s mouth has touched the better. He goes to swallow when -

His brain yells, “WHAT THE FUCK” and also “this is NOT water”.None of which he actually manages to say. He is too busy hacking his lungs out, together with the burning liquid. There are tears in his eyes. It’s not only because of the hacking but also because he has managed to get whatever it is into his poor eyes. How did that even happen! It stings a lot. He can barely see Dick in front of him, his brother reduced to a colored blob.

When his coughing finally has calmed, and he can see something through his eyes filled with burning liquid and tears, Dick is sat up right on the couch. He is staring at him with an expression that holds both surprise and amusement. There’s something wet on his face and oh - Tim might have spat whatever it was that tried to poison him, directly into Dick’s face. Dickface. Hah. It only serves him right.

“What IS that?” he asks exasperated. Dick looks at him, and then the bastard goddamn bursts out laughing while trying to dry his face with the sleeve of his sweater.

“Vodka. I thought that much was obvious.”

How Tim was supposed to know the clear liquid, filled in a normal water bottle, was vodka, goes way past him, but it explains Dick’s weird behavior. Jesus. There’s a lot to unpack. 

Tim is about to say something, planning to chew his brother out because his eyes are still stinging and so is his poor throat. He is then going to figure out why the idiot is drinking vodka straight out of a water bottle post patrol in the first place. It’s quite concerning since Dick usually never drinks. Sadly, before he even has the chance to voice his dismay at his brother, he’s interrupted.

Because that is, of course, the moment Bruce decides to step into the living room. Oh boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to request something at my tumblr: letgraysonsheart.tumblr.com


	2. “You’re bleeding.” - “Well, would you look at that; I am.” + Dick & Artemis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested by anonymous. Add on/filler for the episode 1x12 "Home Invasion".

“What of Robin?” Kaldur asks, as Artemis runs the few meters up to Robin’s still and unmoving form. He’s completely drenched from head to toe, a puddle of water has already formed beneath him. His Robin uniform looks like an even darker shade of red because of the water clinging to it. 

She sinks to the floor by his side as images of Robin being swept away by the huge wave fills her mind. He could have hit himself on the metal of the very thing that saved them in the end. He could have gotten thrown into the at some places too sharp cave walls. She thinks about all the injuries he could have sustained. His fragile ribs, head trauma, the list goes on and on and she wishes she didn’t have the knowledge to know about them. Nature is powerful, even when controlled by evil robots. 

And then there is all the time he spent submerged, trapped, in the water, without being able to breathe. He’s just human, like her, humans aren’t supposed to spend that much time underwater. 

She can hear the others talking around her. They are all confirming that they will be alright but she can’t force her eyes off of Robin. She knew he was small, he's the shortest of the group, but now he looks even more so than before. There is no tension in his body, and his wet clothes are clinging to his small frame. The white of his domino mask has turned into thin slits, and she knows it means he's unconscious. That he might be.. no. She.. she has to know, has to check - she has to do something. 

She reaches her hands out, one goes to smooth black hair from Robin’s forehead and the other hovers over his chest. Fears threaten to overtake her again, not for the first time today. She lowers her hand onto his chest, forces herself to move the other towards Robin’s neck, to find his pulse point. 

She bites her lip and holds her breath and - coughing fills her ears. God, coughing has never sounded so amazing. Even as Dick coughs up icky water, which some of hits her, she can’t help but smile. Tears, now of joy instead of fear and grief and anger, fills her eyes.

“Artemis! What’s going on?” Wally yells from the floor below. There is fear in his voice, matching the feelings she seconds ago was harboring herself. 

“H-he’s breathing too!” she stutters out, to him, to the rest of their team. Sighs of relief echos in the cave. They had feared the worst too. The team has under such a short time become so close, become like a family. For all the good it has given, it has also made moments like these, moments when they realized they might lose someone, even harder. 

Robin gasps for a second, before turning to look at her.

“Way to get traught,” he rasps. She can’t help but laugh as she lets her body relax and fall back from her tense position hovering over Robin. There are still concerns they have to think about, tell Batman about. Robin had almost drowned, and there are scary after-effects of that. 

Robin too is falling back, looking worn out and tired. 

Then he is sitting up again, propping himself up on his elbows even though he looks as pale as a sheet and should be laying down. He should be focusing on breathing, not moving around. She opens his mouth to tell him to just freaking relax, they won! but he is quicker than her.

“You’re bleeding,” he says, voice still scratchy, it’s barely over a whisper, but he still sounds worried.

“Huh?” she says and follows his gaze, she has learned to read the domino now more than before, to her arm. And there is, in fact, a wound gushing blood on her arm. 

“Well, would you look at that; I am,” once she has seen it, she can start to feel it too. The adrenaline from the fight, from the whole ordeal, is wearing off. She can feel every bit of hurt those pesky robots inflicted on her. 

She doesn’t know when she got it, maybe when she fell through the vents, maybe from fighting the robots - it’s hard to say. It doesn’t look deep, so she isn't too worried.

“‘S just a scratch Rob, focus on breathing you,” she says, in an effort to calm the younger teen in front of her. He snorts at her and shakes his head, but he lays down nonetheless. It’s a true testament to how tired he is, and how much toll the almost-drowning has taken on him. Usually, he’s always quick with his comebacks, he’s always got something snarky to say. 

“You’ll need to have it looked at, bandages,” he tells her while staring up at the roof of the cave. She laughs, “I guess I’ll join you in the infirmary then. No way you are getting away without having those lungs of yours checked out,” she answers. 

Somehow, Robin manages to find a bandage, a very wet one at that, but still a bandage, out of his belt. Still laying on the floor he hands it to her, with a slightly apologetic smile as it drips over her legs when she takes it. She still manages to wrap it around her arm though, and it helps with stopping the bleeding. She hopes the water isn’t too dirty. 

“We should check on M’gann,” Robin says, still sounding like it hurts to talk. She wants to tell him to be quiet, to let his poor throat heal, but this is Robin. He’s never been quite in his life, he won't start now just because she asks him to. 

She pushes herself up again, even if her arm hurts in protest when she uses it. Robin is still on the floor, looking like he is trying to find the courage to move. She lends him her unwounded arm and drags him up. He sways a little on his feet, and she shuffles closer so he can lean on her. 

“We should get on cutting loose Kid and SB. I doubt any of them are too happy being stuck like that,” Robin says. He's probably already thinking of ways they can cut their friends out of their stone-prison.

Kaldur already has M’gaan on her feet, but she looks to be leaning most of her weight on him. Artemis had always thought the temperature was high on Mars. When she first had learned of Miss Martians weakness she had found it odd and confusing. Her green skin looks many shades paler than usual, and both her and Kaldur looks drenched in sweat. 

Together the four of them make their way down the stairs down to their trapped friends. They move slow, Kaldur supporting M’gaan and struggling to keep them both upright. Artemis is trying to support Robin who is still hasn’t completely sprung back, while also minding her own wounded arm. Neither of the trapped boys comments on anything as they watch them stumble towards them, and there is no complaining. They, like Artemis, are probably just happy everyone is alive. 

"Rob, are you alright? What happened? We couldn't see anything from down here!" Kid Flash asks once they finally manage to get down to them. He looks like he wants nothing more than to break free of the prison and check over Robin himself. Robin is pushing himself off of Artemis, trying to prove that he is fine, that no harm has come to him. She doesn't miss the way he sways unsteadily on his face, and one look at Wally tells her that neither does he. There are lines of worry on the yellow speedsters face.

“Figured my only shot was to surrender, pretend to drown before I actually did. Blacked out, though.”

Robin says it like it was nothing. Like the fact that he was deprived of oxygen to the point of blacking out was nothing to take notice off. A small hiccup in the grand scheme of things. He is so wrong and yet she can’t make herself comment on it. She is too happy. Everyone will be alright. With a little rest, they will all be fine. 

She’ll use a torch to free both Superboy and Kid Flash. Then they’ll all go and contact the League, and they will take care of the rest. 

It’s going to be fine. 

At least she thinks so until Red Tornado turns on them and steals the breath from her lungs. The last thing she sees before the dark takes over, is Robin falling unconscious for the second time today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to request something at my tumblr: letgraysonsheart.tumblr.com


	3. “Shh, c’mere…” + Dick & Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon said: Ooh, prompts! Even better, ANGST prompts! :) Can you do Dick and Damian with “Shh, c’mere…”?
> 
> Something seems iffy with this and its really short, but i wanted to fill the prompt and post it anyway (im already late posting it)

It feels wrong to step into the family movie room when he is all alone, but Damian does so anyway. The door creaks a little as he pushes it open. 

The manor is quiet, it has been ever since...

Ever since Grayson died two weeks ago. It still feels unnatural. Damian has never felt silence so heavy before. 

They, the whole family, have lost so much so many times, but it never seems to get any easier. Damian still wakes up, and for a few seconds, he forgets. For those too short blissful moments, his brain doesn't remember that Richard isn’t with them anymore. 

Then it all comes slamming back into him again. Damian feels like it’s a weight almost too big for him to carry it out of bed. The first day after, it is. Damian had stayed in bed for most of it, staring up at the roof in his bedroom. Pennyworth, looking as tired and broken as Damian felt, had come into his room after a while. He had brought with him a lonely sandwich on a platter. The older man had not urged him to get out of bed, and Damian was thankful for that. Instead, Pennyworth had sat by his bedside for a while, and the silence had said enough. It had been a small gesture, but also a very nice one. 

In the end, the thing that had gotten him out of bed was Titus. The dog had opened the door, which had stood ajar after Pennyworth had left with his snoot. The dog had then strolled over to Damian’s bed and pushed his head under Damian’s limp hand. The dog had whined, and Damian knew it was time for his walk. Damian's whole body had still felt too heavy when he let Titus drag him out from under the covers. The fresh air had been nice, even if everything he and Titus walked past in the garden reminded him of Richard. 

Now two weeks have gone by and it’s still hard to start the day in a world where Grayson is no more. Everyone is walking around like in a daze, going to school and work, going out at night on patrol, but no one laughs. No one suggests doing anything outside of those activities they had been obligated to do. 

Yet Damian finds himself in the movie room tonight. It had been one of Grayson’s favorite spots, and Richard had enforced a bi-monthly movie night. It had started as something monthly. Though shortly after even Grayson had to admit that their schedules were just too full for it to work. 

Today was the date of the next one day they had planned, back before everything. 

The last one they had they’d watched some stupid action-comedy. All the explosions had seemed too fake for people who had watched too many real ones. Todd had joined them on that one, it had surprised both Damian and Grayson. Todd had been in the manor to talk to Bruce about a case and to eat Pennyworth’s food. He'd then probably been drawn in by the sound of gunshots emitting from the TV.

The butler had even served them freshly made popcorn. Damian hadn’t missed the small smile on Pennyworth's when he walked in on the trio sharing a couch. Damian had let himself be tucked into Dick’s left-side. Jason had been on the opposite side with his feet resting in Grayson’s lap - and way too close to Damian’s face for his liking. He had let it slip for that one time, if only for Grayson. He could not be responsible for taking the small happy smile off his brothers face. 

Now Damian’s fingers glide up the wall until he finds the light switch, and pushes it. The movie room feels cold, even as yellow light fills it. He assumes no one has been in here since their last movie night. Perhaps Pennyworth had, he'd been kind enough to clean up after them. They had been interrupted mid-movie. It was because of the crisis, the one which in the end has taken Grayson from them. None of them had been particularly happy to leave the comfort of the couch, not even Todd, but they had work to do. Crime didn’t wait for them to finish watching their movie. 

Damian hears shuffling downstairs. Maybe it's Pennyworth trying to clean his sorrows away. It can also be father getting ready for his meeting at Wayne Enterprises. Drake already left for work hours ago. The older boy has been scarce in the manor ever since the incident. He has been leaving early for work and then coming home late. He’s been staying at the penthouse more and more. Grayson's death has been too hard on them all. 

Damian can count on one hand the times he has seen Todd. The now oldest have been hiding his pain and pouring all his unhinged anger into his nighttime work. He has seen father's worry-lines emerge every time something related to Todd comes up. Damian has not dared to comment on it, everything feels too fragile right now. 

Damian falls down onto the couch, but it feels too big for only him. It is a ridiculously big couch, but then again there's a lot of bats. Father had probably been nursing some stupid dream about them all at once sitting on it when he bought it. That had never happened of course, and now it never will. 

For all the movie nights they've had, Grayson has been a constant. Always there, arms open and ready for a cuddle no matter if he would get one or not. Damian couldn’t let today pass without at least sitting in the room. It would hurt too much to see another thing Grayson had worked for fall apart. 

He has decided on watching a movie, even if alone. There was no point in only sitting there, letting the silence suffocate him. The movie he’d picked was the same as the one from their first night. That had been many years ago when Damian was new and angry and Dick was acting too old for his age and Batman. The Lion King. A child’s movie. 

It wasn’t the first movie night Grayson had invited Damian on. No, the man had tried to invite him multiple times after they got stuck with each other. Damian had always declined, he suspected Grayson had been watching the movies by himself anyway. The older would sit down and watch a movie even when Damian had been quite loud voicing his disinterest. Damian wonders if he did it because he maintained some hope that Damian would shove up anyway.

And one time Damian had. It had been the official start of their little tradition. 

It had been after a particularly tough day, the first of Damian's many run-ins with Scarecrow and his fear gas. He hadn’t responded when Grayson, still in his batsuit fresh out of the batmobile, suggested watching a movie. Alfred had been administering a second dose of the antidote for Damian. The needle had felt uncomfortable in his arm. His brain had been screaming at Damian to get away. That the liquid in the vial was poison. Damian had used all the concentration he owned not to flinch. Grayson had taken his silence as the answer it was. The older had smiled before disappearing into the showers. 

Later, after they both had showered and ate, Damian had smelled the popcorn all the way to his room. He had gathered himself up and tried to calm his nerves. They were still feeling fried at the end from the fear-gas. Damian could remember how he had lied earlier that night when Grayson had asked if he still felt it. He had at that point still been too proud to admit to feeling weak. 

He would never forget Richards smile when he entered the room. Without a word he had walked in and plopped himself down on the couch on the opposite side of Grayson. He hadn’t known what to say. Still, Richard had smiled him, at smile Damian didn't think he ever would deserve. 

The movie was nice. He enjoyed the animation, and the music was ok. He enjoyed himself and could feel his worries ebb away. Until he didn’t anymore.

Damian had known he shouldn’t have come. He knew he should have let the fear-gas run its course before doing anything at all.

He should have known better because before he knew it, Mufasa was falling and so were Damian’s tears. He had tried to will them away, but for some reason, it wasn't working. Mother would have been disappointed, and grandfather would have punished him. He should have hidden in his room.

He had felt Grayson, ever so careful, scoot closer to him as he desperately tried to keep his feelings at bay. He held his breath as he felt an arm had made its way around his shoulder. Damian would usually be outraged by this show of affection. He could not make himself voice his anger, could not make himself force comfort away. It was the only thing keeping him from completely falling apart. 

“Shh.. c’mere” Grayson had whispered, as Damian closed his eyes and let himself be dragged closer to Richard’s body. He had hidden his face in Grayson's sweatshirt, and for once let himself cry. It was the first time he had let anyone see him cry in ages. Grayson had smelled of cheap shampoo and kevlar as Damian pushes his face into his chest. It felt nice, it felt like home. 

Now, Damian finds himself alone. Grayson isn’t there. Not to hug him, and not to choose which movie to take their thoughts off the horrible things happening in their lives. 

He turns on the big tv and clicks through Grayson’s iTunes library, which is still logged in. It doesn't take long to find the movie. Before he can change his mind, he presses play. He then uses another remote to dim the lights in the room. The first notes of the Circle of Life fill the room. He turns up the volume in a hope that it will, in turn, drown out his own emotions. 

He has to grip the armrest and dig his fingers into the fabric as emotions he has been pushing down too long threatens to bubble up. This was a stupid idea. He shouldn’t have done this. Yet he can’t bring himself to turn off the movie. It feels too much like accepting everything, too much like letting Grayson down. 

He closes his eyes to keep the tears at bay and pretends he doesn’t feel the one that escapes and trails down his chin. It's almost like he can pretend Grayson is there with him, now when he can't see anything. He pretends the push of the pillow on his back is actually Richard’s arm closing the distance between them. It’s almost like he can feel the warmth from Grayson's body, and hear his soothing words.

"Shh, c’mere."

When Damian opens his eyes again, Simba is still running happily over the screen. The lion cub is without a clue of the pain which soon will take over his life. 

There is no Grayson by Damian’s side either as much as he tries to imagine it. There is no Grayson at all.

Damian switches the TV off before that scene starts. He throws the remote at the wall. The throw is so hard that the thing breaks in a thousand pieces. He jumps off the couch. The door slams behind him when he all but bolts out the room. Everything is suddenly just too much. He dries his tears with the sleeve of his sweater. There is no Grayson to pick him up and dry his tears now. Damian is once again all on his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im grateful for any kudos or comments! 
> 
> also requests are open on my tumblr @letgraysonsheart, ive reblogged some promptlists if anyone is interested :)


	4. "It´s nothing" + Dick (& Batfam)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Anonymous said: Could you do the “Its Nothing” sickfic prompt with Dick ??" 
> 
> sorry for only just getting to it now

It’s in the middle of the pre-patrol briefing. Bruce has a grainy street recording of a bank robbery pulled up on the screen. They’re already in their suits, ready to leave once Bruce finishes up and gives the signal. Tim is trying to follow what he’s saying, but he already heard all the details when he planned the mission yesterday. Bruce’s pointing at one of the robbers, his face half-covered by an ugly bandana (and honestly, didn’t that stop being trendy forever ago?). 

They are just about finished when Dick sneezes for the third time since they started. His older brother is leaned back in his chair, his elbow falling down after he used it to stop the spray from his mouth.

Bruce stops talking mid-sentence, hand still in the air pointing at something on the screen. “Everyone needs to be on their top game tonight,” he comments. He's staring at something behind them. Is he actually trying to avoid an argument by not pointing fingers? Tim is almost shocked.

“He’s talking about you, Grayson, and all your sneezing,” Damian comments where Bruce doesn't. Tim can see how the younger elbows Dick in the stomach as he says it. The elder sits up at that, running a hand through his hair. 

“It’s nothing,” Dick promises, rubbing his side were Damian’s pointy elbow met his poor body. Tim winces, he’s been on the receiving end of those pesky elbows one too many times. 

“Are you sure none of the cats have been here?” Dick asks while he looks at Damian, and rubs at his eyes. They do seem to have a slight red tint to them, Tim notes.

Damian huffs offended, “Of course I’m sure, I know where they are at all times. Why would they want to go down here anyway?” the youngest of them argue and throws his arms out. His chair starts spinning because of the movement, and Dick stills it by placing a hand on the armrest. Damian has the decency to smile. 

Bruce is rubbing his forehead. He's probably wondering why they can never seem to have one single normal briefing. His other hand is still hanging in the air, way off its original position.

“They’re cats,” Tim points out because that should be enough of an explanation. He’s quite sure he saw some pretty suspicious paw-prints in the training chalk last week. “They go wherever they want. Why wouldn’t they like the cave? It’s dark, and there are blankets.” If Tim was a cat, he’s pretty sure he would love the cave and never ever leave it. 

Damian narrows his eyes at Tim, “They haven’t been here today. I knew Grayson would be joining us tonight, and I would not let them down here considering his allergies. I have no death wish.”

Dick looks a little offended at that, “it’s not that bad!”, and follows it up with yet another sneeze.

“If it’s not allergies, what is it then?” Tim asks because Dick’s face is looking more red than usual. Bruce did just say they needed to be on top of their game. 

“Are you sick?” he asks when Dick doesn't answer. 

“I said it’s nothing! It must be the dust or something. It’ll stop once we get out,” Dick waves his hand in the air in front of his face, flicking away imaginary dust. “Please continue Bruce, so we can get out of here,” he says and signals for Bruce to continue talking.

“If you’re sure,” Bruce says, voice stoic but even Tim from the far end of the table can see that his jaw is looking slightly more tense under the cowl. He’s picking up the same thing as Tim, something is off with Dick. 

But Dick, stubborn as ever, only nods and so Bruce continues. 

-

“You sure you’re alright?” Tim asks as he falls back behind Bruce and Damian to walk beside Dick. Dick looks up at him, but his eyes are hidden by the domino. His older brother smiles, but Tim can’t help but think he looks tired. Dick then reaches out and ruffles his hair, a fake laugh escaping his lips. Tim tries to refrain from cringing.

“Of course, Red, like I said; it’s nothing, don’t worry so much,” he gives Tim another quick smile before he mounts his bike to follow the roar of the batmobile. Tim tightens his lips and wants to say something but doesn’t know what, so instead he mounts his own bike and follows Dick out into the night. 

-

Their mission is to stop the robbers as they attack their next target; a jewelry store in a nicer street of Gotham. Bruce has a theory that they’re stealing a specific type of karat. It seems to be Penguin steering them to the right destinations. The stores Coppelbot has his claws in hasn’t been robbed, but the particular gold has still disappeared from their mantles. 

It’s all going well until the robbers arrive earlier than expected. They are still setting up the traps, aka still in the store, when the robbers smash in the backdoor surprising them.

“Nightwing, are you okay?” Tim hears Bruce ask as they move to disarm the robbers who've spotted them and are getting out their guns. Tim feels his heart beat faster because yeah, that’s right - Bruce had commanded Dick to stay outside and be on lookout for tonight. The elder had grunted in dismay but still swung up on a nearby rooftop. His only instructs were to tell them if anyone arrived. The seconds seem to tick by too slowly as they wait for an answer. 

One of the goons fires of a shot before they get on. It fizzles past Tim a little too close for comfort, even if he throws his whole body to the side and onto the floor to avoid it. The bullet hits a glass mantle instead, and the broken shards spray all over his face. 

“Red, are you alright?” Bruce yells, throwing the offending robber into a wall and smashing a jewelry mantle in the process. 

“What? Was that a gunshot?” Dick is in his ear, and Tim would be overjoyed were it not for the fact that he almost got freaking shot seconds ago. Bruce doesn’t look happy either as he runs over to haul Tim off the floor.

“Yeah, seems like MAYBE you’ve missed something,” Tim hisses to his brother as he takes Bruce offered hand. They don’t have time to linger. Damian is still fighting to subdue one of the robbers - a man twice the side of the shorter Robin. There are still more men to go. 

“Do you- should I come down? Do you have it under control?” Dick ask and his voice is taking a slight frantic note. 

“Just do your job,” Bruce grunts back, sounding angry and stressed. Not good. 

Tim takes down another robber, and Damian is still over in the corner trying to get a jump on the tall one. Tim makes his way over to help the younger. With a swift move he wacks the tall robber with his bo-staff from behind. 

He’s a second too late to stop the robber from swinging his knife at Damian, who's trapped in a corner. There is nowhere to move for the newest Robin, the window on his left blocked by shelves and a brick wall to his right. 

Damian ducks, but Tim still hears the sound of kevlar being sliced. He hears the younger groan, but Damian still manages to whack the robber with his own staff as he goes down.

“The GCPD are arriving,” Dick informs them via the comms, “I think Gordon’s with them.”

“One of the robbers had a knife, he got Damian,” Tim reports and looks back when he hears that the sound of fighting has stopped. Batman is tying up the goons, all in various degrees of consciousness. He freezes and looks up at them as Tim’s words filter through.

“Is he alright?” Dick asks, voice small. Bruce drops the goon he is finishing tying up to the floor and the man groans. Batman all but runs over to them, hands already reaching out to look at Damian’s wound. Robin is already on his feet again and looking irritated. He's scowling and if his eyes weren't hidden by the mask Tim is sure he would be glaring.

“Let me look at it before the cops get here,” and it’s not Batman but Bruce who grunts at his son. Damian lets his hands, which he until now has been holding over the wound, fall to the side. There’s blood, but there isn’t a lot of it. Tim lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. 

“Can someone please tell me he’s alright?” Dick says over the comms, “I’m coming down there, whatever’s going-” “Stay,” Batman commands Nightwing. “Red Robin will take Robin with him to the cave, he's going to need stitches. Meet them there, I’ll talk with Gordon,” he continues with his voice sounding rough and detached. Tim winces and feels glad he’s not the one on the receiving end of the com-unit outside alone on a cold roof. 

Damian tuts, “I don’t need stitches!” He looks like the child he is as he whines, and Tim bends down the pick up the bo-staff Damian has dropped. Bruce is slapping a field bandage over Damian’s side. 

“Yes, you do, you’ve got a bleeding knife wound in your side,” Tim says as he hands the younger his weapon.

“Do as Red Robin says,” Bruce tells his youngest as they hear the sound of the cops outside. Nightwing is quiet over the com, hopefully already making his way back to the cave. 

Damian shuts his mouth at that and follows Tim through the broken down door out to Tim's bike.

“Think you'll be okay holding on to me for the whole ride?” he asks the younger as he mounts on it. Damian glares back at him.

“Of course,” the younger says, and hops on the back. Tim doesn’t miss how hard Damian is clutching his arms around his side as they drive but holds back his comments. They drive in silence all the way to the cave.

-

Nightwing is already there when they arrive. His eyes look even redder than before, his face flushed. Tim wonders if his big brother has been crying as Dick runs over the second Tim stops the bike. Tim helps Damian jump off first, and tries not to jostle the injured teen too much, before jumping off it himself. 

“Shit, little D, are you alright?” Dick has ripped his domino off. His hands are already out and steering Damian by the shoulders towards the infirmary. Tim follows behind them, and he can see the obvious tension in Dick’s back muscles.

“I’m fine, of course. I would have been better had you done your job though,” Damian says and Tim sees Dick stiffen as Damian slips out from under his hands to jump up on a bed. Alfred is already waiting, gloves on and disinfectant in hand. Tim spots a ready-made needle and thread too on the utility table. 

They leave Alfred to do the patching-up, as Dick doesn’t seem to have an answer and Damian isn’t one for having an audience while he gets tended to. Once again Tim finds himself following Dick’s tense body back towards the main part of the cave. Bruce has arrived now too and is waiting for them by the door to the showers. 

“What. happened?” he asks, and his cowl is up so Tim gets a front row seat to how Bruce’s cold eyes tear into Dick.

“I didn’t see them,” Dick answers, “I don’t know-” 

“We can’t afford to not know!” Bruce snaps, “I would’ve thought you knew this by now. How is it possible to miss armed robbers entering the very building you’re supposed to be staring at?” Bruce is as tense as Dick now, his ripped off cowl clenched so tightly in his hand that his fingers are turning white. They are both too on the offensive to have a proper conversation about this, Tim knows that, but he also knows Bruce and Dick. None of them will be willing to back down. 

But Bruce is right. Dick made a mistake. It could have cost both Tim and Damian their lives. It almost did. 

“I - I’m sorry Damian got hurt, you know I would never put that kid, or any of you, in danger on purpose!” Dick says, his voice sounding more desperate with every word. “I just, I don’t know, suddenly you were just yelling in my ear, that’s when I first knew they were there!” 

Dick’s arguments are thin. Too thin for Batman. 

“Someone could have died, Dick!” Bruce tells his son, mimicking Tim’s very thoughts. Dick though, he looks like he’s been slapped. Tim finds himself wishing he was anywhere but in the cave with them.

All the fight seems to have seeped out of Dick, he resembles a sad balloon three days after a birthday party. 

“I know, Bruce,” his voice sounds hoarse and painful, “I messed up. I’m sorry.” He falls down in a discarded chair, and Tim walks over and puts a hand on his shoulder. He squeezes it and feels the warmth radiating from Dick’s body in his hand. 

“Maybe you should take some time off, just a couple of nights. I know you said you were alright, but..” Tim lets the rest go unsaid. Bruce is looking at them, nodding along to Tim’s words.

“I said it was nothing,” Dick bites back but he does go to hide his face in his hands.

“I don’t have the time to take a couple of nights off. I think I'll go to bed now and sleep until like noon,” when Dick takes his hands away and looks up at Bruce, there is no anger. He only looks tired as he asks, “that okay?”

Tim looks at his adopted father. Bruce looks like he wants to say more, fight more, he might not have been prepared for Dick to let up so quickly. He usually doesn’t. 

Then Bruce nods, “Go to bed, both of you. We still managed to stop the robbers, so there is no more work for us to do tonight. I’ll check on Damian.” 

And that’s that.

-

Tim gets up at ten the next day and finds Alfred alone in the kitchen. Tim is thanking whoever's out there it’s Saturday, and that he has no plans outside of Bat-business. 

“Everyone else sleeping?” he asks the butler, as he takes the cup of coffee Alfred is handing him and smiles a thank-you. 

Alfred shakes his head, “Master Wayne is downstairs but Master Damian is still in bed after my orders - I don’t want him ripping his stitches. Master Dick left for Blüdhaven over an hour ago mumbling about a drug-bust,” the elder explains as he goes to put on a new round of coffee. 

Tim frowns, Dick was supposed to sleep in. 

“Did Dick seem.. fine, to you?” Tim asks Alfred’s back. Alfred turns to look at him and narrows his eyes. Tim knows there is very little that flies past the older man. 

“He seemed to be in a hurry to leave and as usual didn’t look like he had gotten enough sleep. Is there anything in particular you’re concerned about?” Alfred has put his hands on his hips and Tim feels like the man is staring straight through him. 

“I’m not sure yet,” he answers, biting his lip. He slides off his chair, figuring he should at least find his phone and shoot Dick a text. If only to ask if the older needs help with whatever case he’s working on. 

Tim meets Bruce in the hallway who already has a new lead on the robber-case they worked yesterday. They get caught up in the conversation, debating strategies and planning the next mission. Tim forgets all about his plans to text Dick.

-

Three days later and they’re gathered for yet another briefing. This time Jason is there too, with all his bravado and attitude, signature red helmet on. He’s sitting on Tim’s left side, leaned back in the chair as far as it goes with his arms crossed.

“I’m guessing no one else was available, that’s why I’m here?” he says, the helmet making his voice sound robotic.

“Yes,” Damian answers like it’s just a random fact. Dick, sitting on Damian’s side, says nothing to reprimand the teen, which is weird. His eyes are far away. Even Jason seems surprised that the oldest of them have nothing to say; that he doesn't come to his aid or at least try to parent the brattiest Robin. 

“What’s up with Goldie?” Jason whispers to Tim, as much as you can whisper with a big bulky helmet on. 

“No clue,” Tim answers. He’s about to spill his concerns to Jason when Bruce flicks on the screen. Like last time there's a dark store and an even darker street filling up the view in front of them in its grainy glory. 

As Bruce goes on about their mission, and how he hopes it is the last one and will finish the case up for good, Tim studies Dick. He's red in the face, more so than usual, and Tim is sure he heard a cough earlier. 

“Dick, I don’t want a repeat of last time. Can I trust you to be on top of your game tonight? It’s vital we all do our part, we barely have enough manpower as it is,” Bruce asks. He's not very considerate about hanging Dick out to dry in front of his younger brothers.

Dick goes even redder, “Yes Bruce, I just messed up, it was nothing-” “Say that to the hole in my side, Grayson,” Damian interrupts, though there is little venom in his voice. Jason snickers, if the choked sound emitting from his helmet can even be called that.

“Okay, then I say we move out,” Bruce finishes and turns off the screen before dragging his cowl on. Tim sees Dick grip the back of his chair as he gets up to steady himself. He wishes his stubborn older brother would just say something if he isn't feeling well. 

Jason brushes past them both before Tim gets around to opening his mouth to voice his worries, and the moment seems to be over. It’s almost deja-vu, how he falls back to walk beside Dick over to their cycles.

“You would tell me if you weren’t alright?” Tim asks, careful to keep his voice low because Bruce and Damian are still getting into the batmobile. Both of them have too long ears, must be a Wayne-trait. 

Dick looks at him. Again Tim is hit by the realization of how tired his brother looks, cheeks flushed but otherwise pale and supporting those damn red-looking eyes.

“Just a little bit under the weather, maybe it’s a cold,” his voice sounds raspy, much like in the cave a few nights ago. “As I've said, it’s nothing, I wouldn’t go out there if I didn’t think I could handle it, Tim,” he then adds, no doubt seeing the worry making its way over Tim’s face. Dick quickly glues on his domino, making his uniform complete.

Tim hums in contemplation but doesn’t get to argue because Dick is already swinging his leg over his bike. He can see that Jason has already started the drive out, the batmobile hot on his heels, and they have no choice but to follow. Tim just hopes his brother is right because Bruce wasn’t kidding when he said they needed everyone to do their part today. 

-

Tim’s finishing up, brushing the dust off his uniform, when his communicator pings with a sound that means someones trying to contact him on a different channel. They’re all supposed to be on the main B103 tonight, but his interest is peaked. And you never ignore a com-signal.

“Yeah?” he says.

“Somethings off with ‘Wing,” it’s Jason, and judging by the background noise he’s still fighting, “he’s... slow,” he continues. 

“Did you call me up, on a different channel, while fighting, to say that?” Tim asks, already getting ready to make his way over to them. Jason doesn’t answer, just grunts as Tim assumes he punches someone.

“Where are you?” Tim asks, getting onto his bike. This time Jason manages to answer, and he rattles off an address only three streets down. When they had busted the last known hideout Penguin had created for his little gold-robbing minions, they had scattered. Therefore the split up. Everyone had gone off on their own, but Dick and Jason must have met while cleaning out their areas. He is sure to switch over to the main channel again before leaving. 

He arrives at Jason’s location quickly, but it seems the fight is already much over. Dick is over in a corner of the street tying up someone, and as Tim gets off his bike he sees Jason kick someone that goes flying. It’s safe to say that the person doesn’t get up again.

“Dick looks fine,” Tim tells Jason when he gets over to him, putting his behind to Dick. Red Hood is crunched down fitting a pair of handcuffs on the goon he just kicked but looks up at Tim as he walks over.

“Like I said he-” Jason is interrupted.

Retching. Someone is vomiting. Jason gets up and Tim turns. Dick is bent over, leaning on a lamppost and his whole body is shaking from the force of throwing up.

“What the fuck,” Jason mutters, and Tim can see him reach around to take the helmet off now that there are no criminals left for them to take down.

Tim starts making his way towards Dick, who’s stopped vomiting but is still standing bent over.

“He said he was fine, that it was nothing. Fine my ass,” Jason grumbles behind him.

Tim is about to yell, ask if Dick is okay - vomiting on the street isn’t that worrying, Dick might have seen some bad stuff today - Tim is not one to judge. He isn’t sure what the rest of them have been doing since they split up, there are many scary things in Gotham. Still, there is a nagging feeling in his head telling him that trauma isn’t the reason this time. He opens his mouth, words on his tongue -

Dick straight up collapses. Just falls over in a mess of limbs right there on the street. 

He doesn’t get up.

“Nightwings down!” He hears Jason yell, both out loud and in the com in his ear. Tim’s running. He feels like he can’t get to Dick fast enough. 

He falls on his knees once he reaches his brother. Dick’s breathing, that’s good. It helps calm Tim’s anxiety a little as he rips off his gloves. He already knows what he’ll find as he puts the back of his hand on Dick’s forehead. It’s glowing hot. 

“He injured somewhere?” Jason asks, as he crouches down beside Tim, who’s checking Dick’s pulse. It seems steady enough, a little fast but then again they’ve just been fighting for a long time. Jason rolls Dick more onto his back, so he’s not laid in such a crumpled up position anymore.

“Can’t see anything serious. He's got some small lacerations and looks like he scratched his face up when he went down,” Tim says, as Dick groans beneath him, “I think he might just be sick.” 

Jason huffs as Dick groans again, eyes moving underneath his eyelids. “You awake, Dickhead?” Jason says, tapping Dick’s face. Dick’s head lols a little to the side, but his eyes blink open. They look hazy, it might be the fever or Dick’s managed to get himself a concussion, Tim thinks. 

Damian is yelling in his ear, and Batman is demanding a report and asking if they need an emergency evac. 

“He passed out, seems.. somewhat awake now. I think he might be sick, might have gotten a concussion when he went down though. We need to get out of here, but we don’t need an evac,” Tim answers them. 

“Stay with him,” Bruce says as if Tim would ever just up and leave his own family laying in the street. Jason looks to be thinking the same thing as their eyes meet. “We’ll finish up and go straight there with the batmobile to pick you up, tell me if anything changes,” Batman finishes. No one answers as the com’s clicks off again.

“Let’s get him on his side, don’t need him choking on his own vomit,” Jason says, already reaching out to grab Dick’s shoulder. Together they wrangle Dick, who seems slightly more awake now, onto his side.

Now Tim can see that Dick is shaking, and reaches around to loosen his cape. It’s thin, but it might protect Dick a little and make him feel less exposed, so Tim drapes it over his shoulders.

“T-thanks,” Dick rattles.

“I asked you if you would tell me if you weren’t alright,” Tim grumbles, even if he knows it’s unfair to pick a fight when Dick’s a shivering mess laying in the street. 

“T-thought I would b-be,” Dick answers, and Tim hears Jason scoffs.

“That’s what we all think every time we go out sick as dogs, but you’re the one always preaching about not doing it,” Jason complains. He's sounding less worried and more irritated now that Dick is awake and talking. 

Dick rolls to lay on his back again, to Tim and Jason’s dismay, but none of them bother to force him to move again. He’s blinking up at them, Tim’s cape is clenched around his fingers and his face still looks red, there’s cold sweat on his forehead. 

“Sorry,” he says, as he stares at their faces. 

“You scared the crap out of me,” Tim replies, feeling anger take over for panic, “I knew something was wrong, you suck at hiding things.” 

Dick only smiles at him, the bastard. 

The familiar screech of the batmobile fills the street. Tim feels relieved that the responsibility of taking care of Dick is lifted off his shoulders. Yes, he had Jason there with him but it's not the same as having Bruce there to take control. 

“Think you can stand?” Tim asks. Dick nods, looking a little hesitant, and moves to get up. He gets to pushing his arms under himself, before going “nope!” and falling down again. He looks more green than red now, Tim figures. 

Jason sighs, a tad dramatic, but still reaches out and scoops up Dick in his arms. Dick doesn’t protest, and Jason looks just a little bit awkward, so Tim figures Dick must understand how shitty he looks. There is no way Jason would act like this if Dick hadn’t looked more than half-dead a second there.

Both Bruce and Damian have gotten out of the car when they reach it. Bruce is prepping the backseat, where he after too many medical pick-ups has installed a seat that folds back into a makeshift bed.

“Grayson, you idiot,” Damian says as he helps Jason get their older brother into the car. There is no anger or judgment in his voice though, and Tim sees over Jason’s shoulder how soft Damian is when he tucks Dick in under a heated blanket. The younger then climbs into the car on the other side, as Bruce closes the door after giving Dick his best “we’ll talk about this” eyes. Tim shudders, once again happy not to be on the receiving side.

Bruce turns to look at Tim and Jason, who’s still standing on the sidewalk.

“You two okay?” he asks, looking them up and down. They both nod.

“We should get home, Hood-”

“Sorry, B, think I’ve got enough family drama for today,” Jason says while turning and walking towards his bike. Bruce doesn’t look surprised, but Tim thinks he must be disappointed. He isn’t sure. Bruce is hard to read, especially in the cowl. He doesn't say anything to stop Jason though, but neither does Tim.

“You can join us in the car if you want,” Bruce tells Tim instead of dealing with Jason, “we can pick your bike up later.”

Tim shakes his head, “Nah, it’s fine, I don't want to leave it here. Plus, I have a suspicion Dick might puke on the way home and I don't wanna be there for that." He gets a small smile out of Batman for that, before he gets into the car and drives off. 

-

When Tim arrives on his bike back at the cave, Dick is laid out in the infirmary in one of the cots. There’s an IV connected to his bloodstream, and a thick blanket covering him. He looks to be asleep. Bruce is sat in the chair by his bedside

“Not only has he managed to get a nasty bug, but he’s also dehydrated and - you were right; he managed to get himself concussed too,” Bruce says as Tim walks up to the bed. 

“I was almost amazed he lasted as long as he did,” Alfred, who Tim hadn’t seen before, says as he comes walking around a corner, “then I remembered how you’re all stubborn as bulls.”

“I - I knew there was something wrong,” Tim confesses, not daring to look at either Alfred nor Bruce. “He said it was fine! That it was nothing! I shouldn’t have believed him,” he feels pathetic as more emotions than he wants to leaks into his voice.

“Tim, sit down,” Bruce commands and nudges him towards the chair sat beside him. Tim let himself fall into it, all the exhaustion from the last few days dragging him down.

“Dick’s stubborn, he refused to admit anything was wrong,” Bruce says and looks very much exasperated. “Alfred told me that you had expressed some concern about Dick the other day. All three of us knew, and none of us were able to stop Dick from pretending he was fine and going out tonight.” Tim can’t look at Bruce’s face and settles for staring at the man’s clasped hands. 

“Stop talking,” Dick groans from the bed, grabbing their attention. Tim snaps his head up to look at his brother. “We all know this is on me,” he tells them as his eyes blink open. He takes his time before he manages to focus them on Tim and Bruce. 

“Well, you’re not wrong, young man,” Alfred says and goes to take his temperature.

“Dami?” Dick asks when he can’t see the youngest anywhere. The thermometer is now hanging out of his mouth. Dick looks ridiculous, Tim thinks, and not at all like his tough but cheery usual self. He really does look sick, now that he isn’t actively trying to hide it anymore, more so than before. 

“I told him to take a shower and head to bed,” Bruce answers with a rare gentle smile at his oldest, “he wanted to stay.” 

“But he’s alright?” Dick asks, leaning back into his pillow and letting his eyes slip shut.

“All good,” Bruce replies and Tim looks away as Bruce’s hand slips over Dick’s. 

“And you guys?” Dick's words are mumbly, but the worry in his voice is still clear.

“We’re all fine, Dick,” Tim promises, patting his shoulder, “We’re all fine.”

Dick falls asleep again, his face finally looking relaxed and the small scowl slipping away. 

He's got Bruce, Tim, and Alfred by his side and Damian sleeping upstairs, Tim knows he'll be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requests are open over on my blog letgraysonsheart.tumblr.com or just leave one in the comments :) i really appreciate any comments and/or kudos


	5. Ask meme drabbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four of my filled requests for an ask meme on tumblr. "Zip me" (Dick + Bruce), "Unbind me" (Dick and Damian), "Call me" (Dick and Titans) and "Haunt me" (Tim and Jason)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello, it is i, its uhh been some time, enjoy these four requests i did on tumblr which i thought were to short to have their own chapters!

_"Zip me" + Dick & Bruce_

Bruce knocks on the door with a soft hand, and watches it creak open just a little with the force of it. It seems it was never locked, a sign that his ward didn’t want to keep someone out if they were to come looking for him. Dick, standing half-dressed in front of a mirror twice the size of him, comes into view through the thin slit between the door and the frame.

“Hey,” he says softly, pushing the door the rest of the way open and stepping into the room. His dress shoes clacks against the floor as he walks over and continues, “Alfred tells me you don’t like the suit.” A quick look around the room finds him a small discarded black jacket thrown on the bed, and a tie matching the one Bruce is wearing himself halfway under the bed.

He walks over to the bed, waiting for Dick’s reply, and bends down to fish the tie out from under the bed. The knot of it is knit in a way Bruce has never seen, that he knows Alfred would never approve of, and the part supposed to go around the neck looks twirled. Like someone has made multiple tries at mastering it. He quickly ties up the knot, before getting up from his crouched position on the floor, grabbing the small jacket of the bed in the process. 

“It’s weird,” Dick says, as Bruce turns to meet the boy’s blue eyes, so similar to his own, in the mirror. It’s not Dick’s first proper suit event, but the first one since he’s started opening up. Since Bruce has seen any other feelings than grief and anger in the so so young boy’s eyes. 

Re-tying the knot, he walks over, putting the new loop around Dick’s neck. The boy takes a few steps back, small arms hanging by his side and hands made into fists. Bruce watches them slowly ease up. 

“It’s weird, huh?” Bruce says, as he comes to stand in front of Dick, and bends down once again. He’s on eye-level with Dick now, who is so so small, even for a boy his age, and closes in the tie and straightens it.

“Yes, it’s so..” Dick’s voice trails off, and Bruce can see him looking at himself in the mirror over Bruce’s shoulder. “Dark,” the boy finally decides on, eyes falling down to meet Bruce’s. Bruce stands up, brushing his knees free from any lint gathered from Dick’s superman carpet.

“I’m sure we’ll find a way to escape earlier than planned,” Bruce says, opening the jacket for Dick to slide his thin arms into. “We always do,” he continues as Dick turns to stand with his back to him as Bruce had wanted. 

“Yeah, I can’t wait to get into something a bit more colorful,” Dick grunts but does as Bruce wants, letting him put the expensive jacket over Dick’s shoulders, and brushing off any pilling gotten from the bed. 

“We’ll go out tonight, after, yeah?” Dick asks, turning and in the process shrugging Bruce’s hand off his shoulders. Bruce was planning on staying in. He doesn’t particularly like these events himself, but they tend to run late, even when he try to leave early. Looking at Dick, he finds he can’t say no to the boy. It’s easy to forget sometimes, that the kid hates their fake socialite life just as much as Bruce does. 

“Of course we will, chum,” he replies. The smile Dick gives him, full of teeth and crinkles in the corner of his small eyes, makes the change of planes worth it.

* * *

_Unbind me + Dick & Damian_

He wakes up to someone... Tickling him? No, no that’s not right. His head is pounding, and it feels like something’s dried on his face - which usually means blood, or he’s fallen asleep on a couch too close to any of his brothers, or Wally and Roy, and they’ve decided to prank him.

He forces his eyes open and is met with a brick wall in a badly lit room. No prank then, it seems, so it must be blood caked on his brow and chin, like first suspected. It doesn’t explain why someones tickling him though, or trying to, his palms aren’t really the most sensitive spot on his body.

He tries to free his hand and oh - oh, they’re tied. 

“You awake, Nightwing?” A small, but sharp, voice rings out from behind him. A little too loud, too close to his ear, and he can’t help but wince. But he knows the voice, at least. Robin. 

“Yeah, think so,” he answers, surprised when he finds it hard to make the words come out. 

“Try to stay that way,” Robin is sounding too adult, too cold. Nightwing would ask what’s wrong, but with his growing headache, all his energy is going to trying not to puke. 

“I’ve almost got this rope off, they must’ve used something with strong fibers in this,” Damian says, and Dick can picture the youngers gritted teeth, the tip of the boy's pink tongue caught between them, and Damian's small furrowed brows. 

Dick tries to stay awake, but he’s tired, and his head hurts.

“B?” he manages to ask, as he feels the tightness around his hands disappear.

“On his way,” Damian answers, a small hand now holding onto Dick’s shoulder, and finally Robin comes into view. There’s a growing bruise on his chin, but otherwise, he looks okay. The smaller helps Dick move to lean against the wall, before sitting down himself, pressing against Dick’s side.

“Tickle me?” Dick slurs, and even in his most likely concussed state he can read the very confused look Damian sends him before rolling his eyes.

“You were always awful when concussed,” Robin comments then, like they’re age-old comrades, and maybe they are now, after all this time. He sighs, and even though Damian protests, he leans his head against Robin’s soft hair, and let his eyes slip shut. Damian's there and he's okay. Batman's on his way. It'll be okay.

* * *

_Call me + Dick & Titans_

“Get - get me Kory,” Dick sputters, blood spilling from his lips as he coughs. 

“Kory’s gone after Deathstroke, Dick, she’s - she’s not here,” Rachel answers, and regrets staying behind. She would rather kick and scream, unleash her powers and all of hell on Deathstroke, than sit here on the ground, by Dick’s side, feeling gravel dig into her knees. 

There’s blood on her fingers when she looks at them. Dick’s blood.  
“Kory,” Dick croaks again, his eyes, full of unleashed tears and so much pain, catching hers. “I need to tell her-” he starts but is stopped by another harsh cough that rattles his whole body. A bullet to the chest, that’s what had done this to him. A bullet to the chest, gifted from Deathstroke.

Kory and Donna had gone flying after Deathstroke just as Rachel had arrived. She'd ran from the Titans tower the second the comms had crackled with the news of what was going on. What Dick had done, what he’d tried to do. She'd left Gar alone with Rose, and gone. 

Hank and Dawn had dragged the man, the boy really, who saved Jason to a car and started heaving him into it. They needed to get him somewhere they would be able to dig the corrosive bullets out of his chest.

It was only then when she turned to look at Dick because he'd made a weird noise like a wounded animal, she had realized how very wrong something was. His face was pale, and his hand was on his side, holding over something wet spreading throughout his shirt. He'd been swaying on his feet. 

His knees buckled. Only Rachel had been there, to try to catch him, though they’d both ended up on the ground in the end. 

She turned to scream at Hank and Dawn, to tell them she needed help, but they’d already disappeared into the stolen car with the hurt boy. They were speeding away and hadn’t seen, weren't looking back the one time she needed them too. 

“You’ll have to wait, Dickhead,” Jason says, appearing by their side. The only one left with her and Dick, waiting for the next ride. She’d almost forgotten. Everything tonight had been about Jason, and she'd forgotten he was there. 

"You can tell her once she comes back from beating Deathstroke’s ass, it can’t be that important,” he continues, his voice oddly soft. 

“It is,” Dick sputters, groaning in pain and squeezing his eyes shut. 

“I don’t have a comm, I can’t reach anyone, I just.. ran here” she says, mostly to Jason. She feels embarrassment over her own foolishness fill her chest as she looks up at the boy still clad in his Robin uniform. She had been just as reckless as Gar and Jason had been when they started all this. As reckless as she had berated Gar for being just hours earlier.

“Slade took mine, crushed it under his booth,” Jason replies, intruding her thoughts. His eyes move to meet hers before they go back down to look at Dick. “We’re in the dark,” he says and looks up at her again, his eyes wide underneath the mask as he speaks again with a shaky voice. 

“We’re alone”

* * *

_"Haunt me"+ Tim & Jason_

Tim knows he asked for this, had wanted this, had forced his way into this actually, but he hadn’t known what would come with being Robin when he did it.

He understood now why Dick Grayson had been so stubborn, so clear on his refusal to come back and be Robin.

It was hard not to notice the glass case in the cave. It was lit up more than most other things, and not stowed away in a corner or pushed to the side either. It sat right there, with all the other uniforms, a shining beacon of what had happened to the second Robin.

Tim never knew Jason Todd, had seen him once at a socialite event and followed him with a camera and a dream at night, but they had never talked. He had always been an outsider to the lives of Wayne and his two sons.

Now he was on the inside, had wiggled his way under the secrets skin, but he hadn’t realized what those secrets came with. 

He hadn’t thought about how he was only there because Jason wasn’t before he was in too deep.

Jason’s death hangs over him, at all times, both in and out of costume. The way Bruce looks at him sometimes, how he speaks, tells Tim of all the things Jason once had said or done. Of what Tim doesn't do, can't do, compared to Jason.

He stays at the manor more and starts seeing the hints of the life Jason had lived everywhere, yet to be cleaned up. A book, half-full of small post-its, the rest of it left empty never to be read. There's a report he came over on the bat-computer while playing, one time he had sneaked away from Bruce’s watchful eyes. It had been marked undone, but created some time ago, which had made him curious. 

A quick look at the file told him it had been a report Jason had been writing and now never would finish. Bruce hadn't deleted it, nor finished it. He was quick to close it. 

He had also found a tin of cookies, one late night, while looking for a snack. The cookies had looked a little dry, and of a kind he knew for a fact neither Bruce, Alfred or Dick liked. It had been stoved behind the cereal in a cupboard. Maybe forgotten or perhaps hidden in a hope that the only person who could appreciate them would come back. 

Jason might be physically gone, but he’s there - anywhere Tim looks, Jason’s there. In the library full of books Tim will never read. In Bruce’s sad eyes whenever he gets lost in thought. In Alfred’s cooking whenever they eat something Jason used to love. In Dick's facial expressions when the older boy is showing him some move and starts talking, but suddenly stops, like it hurts too much to say whatever he was thinking.

Jason is always there, in the back of all their minds. There is no escaping death.


	6. "Stab Wound" - Tim & Jason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim's fighting off some ninjas with Jason and Damian, and one of them gets in a hit a little worse than the others

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got a request from a friend to write something tim-centric with stab wound, and apparently that meant tim and jason being brothers and also tim hiding his injury because i live for that hurt/comfort

Tim doesn’t understand where all these freaking ninjas are coming from. It’s like they’re crawling out of every open space, every broken board, every hole in the old warehouse floor. They don’t seem to be stopping either. He’s got both Robin and Red Hood fighting with him, in an odd turn of events, and they’re still only barely keeping the upper hand.

Dodging the quick arms, the knives and the punches coming for him, he tries to move closer to the center of the room. He shoots a quick look over at Hood and Robin because they should be doing the same. It’s their game plan after all. They seem to be doing.. okay, he guesses. Further into the room than before, at least, and he can't ask for more. 

Why did it have to be ninjas? They’re so sly and moving so fast, it’s tiring keeping up with them. Their little stabby knives more annoying than useful, he figures. They have yet to hurt any of them more than a few superficial scrapes, or so he assumes; he can’t spot any major bleeding wounds on any of his current teammates. Damian, a little ninja assassin himself, probably thinks this is fun. It for sure looks like it, the way the youngest of them is flipping around, wielding his katana.

While he's busy checking on Damian, one of the ninjas gets in a kick to his stomach which, ow, is not nice at all. Now he has to both focus on blocking and trying to get some air back into his poor abused lungs. That’s for sure going to bruise, it may have done some damage to his ribs too. Alfred will for sure give him a frown, maybe even a sarcastic unimpressed comment. He has to bite back a hiss as he straightens up to continue on. 

A yelp to his right grabs his attention because ninjas don’t yelp - but baby demon brats do. He shoots a quick look over at Damian. It seems like in an unexpected turn of events, a ninja has managed to sneak up on the brat and got him with a sword. The wound doesn't seem too serious, Tim sees and releases a sigh of relief, even if it's bleeding. Damian himself looks even angrier than before. 

Still, the younger is now fighting off multiple ninjas by himself. It looks like he's starting to get stressed too, Tim notes and frowns. Damian has got his tongue poking out, only the tip of it showing, smushed between his lips. He's concentrating, hard enough to let a small tell like that slip out.

Tim sighs, and hits a ninja with his bo staff, knocking them down. The ninja stays down, which he isn't mad about at all, as he starts making his way towards the younger. 

He’s almost there, preparing to help Damian tackle the flow of ninjas when there’s a sharp pinch in his side. He reacts on instinct, lashing out with his staff and letting the tip of it connect with full force in the offending ninja’s stomach. The ninja doubles over and falls to the side, gasping for air. Serves him right, Tim figures, as he knocks him unconscious with another hit. Without looking he lets one hand move down to where it’s still throbbing a little from where the ninja got him. There's a growing hurt spreading through his stomach, and yep - that’s a stab wound. 

Stabby ninjas are the worst kind of ninjas.

It doesn’t seem too serious, it’s not an unbelievable pain, and it’s not hurting too much. 

No need to call it a night yet. 

He continues his track towards the demon brat because even if the Robin would never admit to it, it sure looks like he could use a hand. 

Tim knows Damian could take on all the ninjas and win. Hell, he's probably winning as it is, but Tim would rather see it happening with minimal damage, then well, the opposite. And that.. ain’t what's happening right now. He can see that the younger has a growing redness on his cheek where a ninja must have gotten a hit in. There’s a small knife wound on his arm, adding to the one from before, too. 

A hurt, benched Robin is the worst kind of Robin, and to be frank, Tim would like not to deal with that. That, and the massive illogical guilt he'd be consumed by if anything real serious were to happen. Another great perk he's gotten from being a bat. Or he could have had it from before. 

Whatever. 

Damian doesn’t bite out anything as Tim comes up on his side. Tim hopes it means the younger has realized that he could use a little help. It’s nice, that Damian is actually showing some signs of aging, of becoming more mature. Or that his training is going through his thick skull at least. 

The younger boy, he's .. not as insufferable any more, and it’s making working with both the Bat himself and Robin a whole lot easier.

Together they manage to force the ninjas further back, into the middle of the room. There’s a hole in the floor that some of the ninjas actually came crawling up out of when the fight first started. Jason joins their side too, at some point, watching their backs. So continuing as a little unexpected but united trio, they push the ninjas backward and down. Some of them even scramble back into the hell hole they came from. 

They’re winning now, actually a more clear win than in a long time. Which means Tim's tired body gets a new shot of energy and motivation, enough to keep him pushing on. His side is still itching, more and more actually, but it’s not enough to stop him from fighting.

He's had worse. 

After what seems like forever, the sound of Damian’s katana going back into its sheath fills the room. The top of Tim’s bo staff has at one point gotten sliced clean off when he’d dodged an attack from a jumping ninja (and really? It wasn’t enough coming at him from the ground?)

Jason is zip-tying the ninjas who hadn’t fled, both their hands and feet, in a methodical order. Tim steps towards the hole in the ground, where the last of the ninjas, when realizing their defeat, had disappeared into. It’s always annoying when they end up with loose ends, but there was no stopping them. They’re already long gone, he assumes, having sacrificed their weakest to get away themselves. Tim suspects they must have had some kind of hierarchy. It was clear who fled and who had to stay behind and fight to keep him and the two others busy. 

As he takes another step, he feels a wave of dizziness hit him, which is usually not good. He puts his staff into the ground, steadying himself, leaning onto it. 

“You alright there Tim?” Jason is by his side now, only a meter away, and when did he move over? Tim didn't hear his steps as he came towards him.

His knees feel weak and shaky. Pain shoots up his body when Jason hits his shoulder in what's supposed to be a friendly pat. Crap. He knows what this is, what happens now.

He’s coming down. The fight is over, and his body is taking in all the damage it has sustained. The adrenaline leaving behind a drained shell. 

His fingers go to his stomach, his gloves get soaked in seconds.

“Tim?” Jason says again, as Tim’s vision tunnels, the darkness creeping into the edges.

“Tim!” Jason yells again, moving closer, but looking more like an unfocused blob made of red and grey. 

Huh, that's weird. 

Tim’s knees hit the hard floor of the warehouse as his vision tunnels. Though he doesn't feel any pain at the unexpected meeting between his boney knee and the cement flooring. Huh. That's weird.

He barely feels himself slipping, falling, and doesn’t even know if he hits the ground or not.

-

When he comes too again, he’s laying down, reclined, on something cushy and comfortable. He’s belted fast, but the straps don’t hurt. They’re not too tight like they would be if someone had kidnapped him, not cutting off his blood flow or gnawing at his skin. 

There’s a familiar rumbling sound that his brain is still too muddled from blood-loss to understand what is. Whatever he’s laying on, or in? slows down a little. He hadn’t even realized he was moving at all, before. 

His head is throbbing, but so is his side which - right, there was a stab wound. He wills his fingers, which takes a worrying amount of effort, to move towards his side. Is he still bleeding out? It doesn't feel like it. He would for sure not be alive right now if that was the case. 

“You awake over there?” A gruff voice, lower than Dick’s but still lighter than Bruce’s, asks out of nowhere. Jason, his brain finally supplies. That’s Jason. Who he had been fighting with, plus the demon brat. Who’s either not there or being unusually quiet. 

He can’t quite get himself to make his voice work, but he does manage to pry his own eyes open. It's relieving that he isn’t met by a blinding light. At least he isn't in some bed in the med-bay at the cave, or worse - the hospital. In fact, it’s dark, and there’s a window, he can see the outside rushing past. 

Oh. That explains it. The rumbling, the movement. They’re in the batmobile. It makes sense he’s strapped in then. It's the seatbelts, costume made for the batmobile and its makeshift emergency med-bed passenger seat. He looks down his torso and sees that parts of his uniform have disappeared and been replaced by a white gauze. His fingers had never quite managed to reach the wound. 

“Damian?” he croaks because there is no way the kid is in the car. He knows for a fact this exact car only has two seats, and not much more space to sit in. He was once crammed in the passenger seat with Dick, while Bruce drove them home. It's not an experience he wants to relive, not with Dick, and not with Damian. There is no way two over-average muscle built guys should fit in the seat, and they don't. 

“The brat?” Jason asks with a huff, though Tim can spy a hint of a smile ghosting over the older's lips through the windshield. “He went to help B clean up once we figured you weren’t going to die,” the older continues. Tim notices there's a little bit more anger in his voice now.

He stays silent and leans his head on the rest while closing his eyes. 

“Why didn’t you say you were hurt?” Jason asks, apparently unable to deal with the quiet only interrupted by the steady hum of the motor. “I know that the bat likes to be dramatic and shit, but passing out like that? Not nice against your fellow teammates, dude.” 

Tim knows Jason is trying to sound casual, like he doesn’t care, but instead it's so absolutely obvious that he does. That his older brother was in fact worried. Tim can actually feel how it warms his heart, brings some heat to his cheeks, even if he wants to chalk it up to the blood loss. It's not exactly a regular thing that happens, Jason Todd showing that he cares. Then again, Bruce isn't there with his deafening silence and judging eyes. Perhaps that makes it easier.

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” Tim answers when he realizes that he's let the silence drag on a little too long while he was lost in thought. He can’t be bothered to open his eyes again, so he’ll just assume Jason is glaring at him. It for sure feels like it, his skin is prickling. 

“You were stabbed. In the gut. You didn’t think that was bad?” Jason barks out, sentenced chopped and hard. Tim can feel the car swinging in a turn. He hopes they’re going to be home soon. Then Alfred can patch him up and he can climb into his big comfy bed and sleep for like, ten hours at least.

He should probably answer Jason too, at some point. 

“I don’t know, I didn’t feel it until the fight was over,” Tim argues back, and can’t keep the slight irritation out of his voice. He’s tired god damn it, and lost too much blood to have this fight right now. So what if he smooths the details out a little? The wound had been an irritating pulse in the back of his head after he got it, yes, but nothing.. nothing that seemed dangerous. 

Plus, Bruce will do the same exact dance with him when they discuss the case later. The less worrying he makes it sound to Jason, the less serious it will sound to Bruce. Keeping the story consistent and all that. 

Jason takes a deep breath and breathes it out with a sigh, “I'm still mad at you, but, I guess that’s sound reasoning, adrenaline, and all. We've all been there.” 

Was that Jason agreeing with him? Letting the matter go? What? 

Tim cracks an eye open, looks at Jason’s face through the mirror. The older is biting his lip, staring at the road ahead, though his mind looks to be elsewhere. He wonders if he should be worried about Jason’s driving. Then again, he’s seen the Robin turned crimelord turn vigilante driving much more reckless, while distracted, before. 

“You okay?” Tim hears himself asking, his voice sounding too soft. Then again, he can and will blame that on the blood loss too.

“Yeah, a few lacerations, one of the ninjas got in a good kick to my ribs too. Figured it was better I drove you to the manor. Let Robin join Batman,” Jason says before quickly adding, “not that I wanted to do that, even if I were in perfect health. Join Batman, I mean.” 

Tim laughs a little at Jason's ramble. It sounds more like a croak, but it makes Jason look at him through the mirror with hardened eyes. It only makes him want to laugh more. 

They drive in silence for a little while longer, and Tim lets his eyes slip closed again. In the darkness, he tries to feel the turns the car takes and guess where they’re at, but it's impossible. Usually, he could drive these streets blindfolded, or, he assumes he could. He hasn’t tried, if being so sleep deprived you’re seeing triple doesn’t count. 

“Thanks,” he mutters, feeling sleep creep upon him. They’re going to be home soon, but a little nap won’t hurt. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t got any head injuries. Jason hasn’t mentioned anything and he knows the older has been watching him. That’s what they do. 

“No need to thank me. When you faint right in front of me like a bigger drama queen then B, I can’t exactly leave you there to bleed out,” Jason answers. There's laughter in his voice, even though his words tells so much about his growth.

“You could've,” Tim says, letting the following silence hang in the air for a few seconds before continuing. “You could’ve left me. Or let Damian deal with it alone, or called Batman, but you didn’t. So thanks,” he finishes and stares up in the dark roof of the car. There's a small light there he hasn't noticed before, though it's turned off now.

He takes a deep breath, feeling the itching of his wound, it hurts - but not too bad. Maybe there's a numbing agent on the gauze, they use that sometimes if they have it on hand. His side is throbbing, but the sticking pain he remembers from before is almost gone.

Jason is being worryingly silent after the little proclamation Tim just finished.

“It’s the blood loss talking,” Tim reassures as he realizes there's a real chance he's hit some dark emotional spot in his older brother. He opens his eyes in time to see Jason’s shoulders sinking. The fingers cradling the wheel like a lifeline eases up, letting blood flow into them again. 

“Yeah," Jason says, after a while, after too long. He's not looking in the mirror at all, keeping his eyes steady on the road, avoiding Tim’s eyes. Another defused emotional bomb added to Tim's belt.

"Do you really think-," Jason's voice stops midway through the sentence. He's still staring right head, eyes hard and guarded. 

"Do I think what, Jason?" Tim is too exhausted for word games right now, and for any kind of emotions really. Maybe he hadn't defused the bomb, just deactivated the timer so now it could explode at any time by a single wrong move. 

“I’m going to take a nap,” Tim states then, instead of commenting on anything more, when it doesn't seem like Jason is going to answer. He's too tired, so with a sigh, he tries to relax his tense muscles while shutting his eyes. As he breathes in deep it pulls at his wound again, and it makes it sting all the way through his chest. He forces his face to be natural, hoping Jason doesn't notice. 

Anyway, it's kind of nice too, the pain, a screwed up part of his brain says. It means he's alive, that he's not dying yet. That's nice. 

“We’re going to be home in like, five minutes,” Jason answers like Tim is being ridiculous thinking about taking a nap. Tim doesn’t dare comment on how Jason called the manor home, nop, not at all, not touching that with a ten-foot pole. Especially not after all the other emotions he's stirred up since waking up. He has some tact, even with a blood loss brain.

“It’ll be a short nap,” he argues back, voice already more groggy. A more comfortable than before darkness creeps into his mind, slowly taking over. 

He’s asleep before he hears if Jason answers or not.


	7. A green bath (Tims gonna have his brother back)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I put this up on tumblr ages ago buuut yeah, here it is all u ao3 folks, basically dicks dead and tims not content with that

The green is shimmering in front of him, almost mesmerizing. There's a dripping sound, from somewhere in the dark cave, steadily drip, drip, dripping with the same tact as the beat of his heart.

There’s no sound from the man lying beneath him. Dick’s head lolls limp as Tim drags him closer towards the pit. The league has to know they're there, there is no way they don’t. He has no idea why they haven’t showed up yet. 

Maybe Talia wants to see how it plays out. Maybe Raas wants to see if he has the guts to do it- if he’s willing to follow through on this hail mary. 

Bruce is probably on his way across the world as they speak, even if Tim’s sure he’s covered all his tracks. The Bat always figures it out. Tim hopes Bruce hasn’t brought Jason with him, and the can of worms that that situation would bring up. Damian shouldn’t come either, considering his weird and unexplainable close relationship to Dick, and surprising devotion to keeping Dick's wish about staying dead.

Tim’s the only one willing to do this. 

There’s been enough death. It’s never finite for the bats anyway, he tells himself, it’s almost a law of nature by now. A bat never dies, not permanently. Tim’s prepared to follow through on that, even if he has to do it by own hands.

He doesn’t want to lose more family this way. 

They’re by the shore now, he finds himself standing on weird black sand disappearing into the green waters. There’s no rise and fall of Dick’s chest, but he hasn’t started to decompose yet - thank god. He still looks like Dick, like he’s just in a deep sleep, face relaxed and free of worry.

Footsteps echos through the cave, coming up behind him. The swish of a cape, familiar but also not.

“Are you now sure of this, Detective?” Raas asks from behind him. Tim doesn’t turn around and tries to keep calm as he stares over the murky waters. He can’t see anyone else, can’t hear anyone else, but maybe they’re just hiding in the shadows. 

Maybe he isn’t as alone in the cave as he first thought.

“I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t,” he replies, turning around to face Raas. The man looks older than usual, due for a bath himself soon perhaps. His eyes are still vibrant green though, just like the last time Tim met him, under very different circumstances. 

“How is my grandson?” The old man asks, leaning against his staff, almost casually. It’s a funny picture and a strange change in the conversation topic. 

“Distant,” Tim answers truthfully, “and angry. Sworn on revenge.”

“A lot like his father, isn’t he?” Raas quirks an eyebrow up at him. 

Tim just nods; he doesn’t know what to say. 

Batman can arrive any second, and he might have said rage-filled Robin with him. That won’t be pretty. 

“So,” Raas steps closer, and Tim moves to stand in front of Dick, blocking him from view. Raas' face turns into a weird funny smile like there is something overly interesting about all of this. Perhaps it is. Tim can't see what.

“Are you going to throw him in?” 

Tim freezes, for a second, and lets himself imagine what will happen if he does. Flashes of rage and heartbreak, tears and bruises. He quickly shakes it off, opening and closing his palms in a self-soothing manner and taking a breath to calm himself,

“Is it safe for me to wade in with him?” he questions Raas. Their knowledge about the Pit in surprisingly scarce, there are few of the green waters left and Jason has never been particularly happy talking about what he knows. The League has always kept their cards close to their chests too, no matter how much Bruce has tried to find their papers on the stuff. 

Raas looks at him, and for a second Tim thinks the older man isn’t going to answer. 

“Father, please stop with this ridiculous game,” a new voice joins in. Talia. The woman is walking, her heels clicking against the stone floor of the cave and he knows it’s only because she wants them too. She's heading straight towards them.

“Now, now, I’m only humoring our uninvited guest,” Raas says, rumbling voice filling the cave. Tim bites his lip as Raas looks at him, an eyebrow quirked. Uninvited, yes, he had blown a hole in a wall just to get in. 

“Truly, I have problems seeing why you are allowing this. Nightwing has been a thorn in our side for a long time,” Talia says as she comes to a stop, standing by her father’s side. She is a lot taller than the old man plus imposing and scary in a whole different way. 

Tim wonders if her animosity towards Nightwing has anything to do with his older brother’s close relationship with Robin, leftover from Dick’s run as Batman.

“Why shouldn’t we let the boy resurrect his brother? I’m sure Damian would appreciate it too,” Raas argues, which Talia scoffs at. She probably has a better idea of what Damian thinks about all of this than the boy's grandfather, who never seems to care about anything besides his own agenda. Tim knows Damian’s thoughts too and has to refrain from visibly cringing at the thought. 

Damian is for sure steaming somewhere, cursing Tim in every language he knows. It's surprisingly many. 

“Are you sure Mr. Grayson would?” Talia asks, and Tim isn’t sure if the question is directed at him or at Raas.

Her eyes meet Tim’s, hers a fiery glow so different from Raas’ green, before she adds, “And what about Bruce?”

Her use of their civilian names is eerie, sending goosebumps up Tim’s spine even if he tries his best to hide it. It sounds wrong and unnatural, when they’re the villains that they are and Tim is in full suit-up, he’d even forced a Nightwing-suit and domino mask on Dick before he left Gotham with the body. 

“I’m sure the Bat would be glad to see his son again and as of Mr. Grayson - well, he’s dead. I’m sure he has no opinion as of right now,” Raas contemplates, and looks towards his daughter, for the first time showing a hint of irritation. “Who are you really trying to argue with here? Me, or the junior bat?” he questions her with a voice more sharp when neither Tim nor Talia answers to his first words.

Talia quickly back’s up, taking a step further away from her father, having heard the same underlying threat as Tim apparently.

“Whoever it works on,” she says, nonchalant, “Even if he’s dead now, I’m quite sure the famous first Robin would have quite a lot to say about being resurrected.” 

Talia’s a good actor, Tim notes, not showing any sign of being scared of her father as she continues arguing, besides the little first reaction. 

And she’s right. Dick will have a lot of words, most of them probably negative, about being woken from the dead.

Tim doesn’t care.

He wants his big brother back.

Raas opens his mouth as if he is about to say something but then stills for a second. Something changes over his face as he looks over at Tim again.

“Well, young detective, it seems we are becoming short of time. The Batman seems to have infiltrated the first level, so I suggest you make a decision quickly.” 

Bruce is here already. Crap. How Raas even knows is a mystery to Tim, he’s never been able to see a comm-unit on neither the Demon’s head nor his daughter.

“I can inform you that the water is safe, just don’t inhale too much,” Raas continues, voice rushed, stepping closer to him. To Dick.

Talia stares, mouth pulled tight, waiting for the end game. For Tim’s decision.

Is he ready to face the consequences of the choice he is taking right now? The reactions he will be met with?

There hasn’t been a funeral, there is no gravestone and not everyone even knows. It’s not completely real, not yet. 

He takes a deep breath. Yes, he knows what he’s going to do. 

Smoothly he turns, feeling his cape fluttering behind him, as he bends down. He hefts Dick up, arms holding under his brother's shoulders. He has to remind himself that Dick can’t feel anything as the limp body scrapes against the rough black sand and stones mixed up in it.

He can’t help but hold his breath as he steps backwards into the waters, feeling the water around his boot clad feet.

Nothing happens. 

He drags Dick further out, the water quickly deepening. Soon he’s standing to his middle in it, everything around him glowing green. He can barely see Raas and Talia still standing at the shore, they don’t seem to have moved. 

“It’s now or never,” Raas says, his voice somehow reaching Tim without yelling. There’s the sound of fighting, closing in, the tell-tale explosion sound of the specially made batarangs.

Okay.

He’s doing it. It’s happening.

Tim pushes Dick’s limp and broken body under, something in him screaming about how Dick will drown - how wrong it is to hold someone he loves underwater. But Dick’s dead, this won't kill him more. You can’t drown if you’re not breathing, the logical part of his brain says.

He stands there, completely still, only using his muscles to stand and to keep Dick’s body under.

For a breath, nothing happens. Tim feels the panic start to take hold. What, why - This was supposed to -

Something moves in the water. 

Twitching.

A pale veiny hand grabs around Tim’s wrist. 

It’s done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr is still letgraysonsheart if anyone wanna yell, kudos are much appriciated


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